The Sum of His Parts
by FemaleChauvinist
Summary: Hybrid Mattarcrian has tried Chitran and Slovian doctors without success. Now his only hope is a Terran…but can he last long enough to get to Earth for help? Or maybe he won't have to…
1. Gesundheit

**Disclaimer:** While the attempt has been made to be medically accurate, some artistic license has been taken, and statements made by Dr Bashir are not to be regarded as authoritative. Monosynthadrenaline, thollanine, and thollanase are products of the au thor's imagina tion, and any re sem blance to actual drug and/or chem ical names is un in ten tional.

The Chitran and Slovian races are a product of the au thor's imag i na tion, and any resemblance to the name of a canon Star Trek race is unintentional. Recognizable characters and plotlines are the property of Paramount and Viacom; all original characters and story © 2019 FemaleChauvinist.

_Do not post without permission. Do not copy/print without including the above disclaimer in its entirety._

**A/N: "Season" given for timing reference only; see my profile for the alternate history used in this story. Barbie**

**Chapter One: Gesundheit**

_Season Four_

Mattarcrian followed the steward through the halls of the ship that would take him through the wormhole to the Alpha Quadrant, and from there to the planet Earth.

"This will be your cabin," the steward told him, stepping aside to allow Matt to enter the room first as the door slid silently open. "You'll have it to yourself until we reach the Alpha Quadrant; we're picking up another passenger at the Deep Space Nine station there, and he'll be in here with you."

"Thank you," Matt said quietly, unsure how he felt about sharing his cabin. On the one hand it would be embarrassing to have one of his episodes witnessed; on the other he was beginning to wonder just how safe it was for him to be alone when they happened.

They crossed through the wormhole a week later, Matt having already suffered two episodes in that short time. The dull headache that no longer ever really went away seemed to be growing worse, throbbing if he turned his head too fast.

The steward was just ushering his new roommate in, explaining the accommodations to both of them, when Matt burst into a sudden fit of violent, explosive sneezing.

"Bless you!" his roommate said cheerily as the door shut behind the departing steward and it finally seemed no more sneezes were forthcoming. He extended his hand. "I'm Julian Bashir."

"Mattarcrian Allonderack; you can call me Matt," he replied, cautiously accepting the man's handshake as he waited for the stabbing pain behind his eyes that made his usual headache feel like nothing. If he held his head absolutely still, maybe he could make it to his bed; the last thing he needed was to scare his new roommate off by passing out in front of him.

Bashir dropped his bags in the corner, then turned to ask which bunk was his. But the words froze on his lips when he saw his roommate standing unnaturally still, almost as if he was afraid to move. And while the man obviously wasn't Earth human and Bashir had no idea of his normal skin color, its tone now looked decidedly unhealthy. "Are you all right?" he asked instead, taking a step toward him.

Matt swallowed hard, spots dancing in front of his eyes at even his single cautious step backward. "Help me," he whispered. "Got to lie down…pass out if move…"

Bashir crossed the room in a single stride, his hand drifting toward his tricorder, though he left it clipped to his belt. If the man was indeed on the point of collapse, getting him to bed came even before checking his vitals. "All right, I have you," he said, an arm securely around Matt's waist. He moved forward slowly, but Matt bit back a scream of pain, gripping Bashir's arm until Julian was sure his fingers had left bruises. "Hang on," he murmured; "you're going to be fine." In one swift motion he caught Matt under the knees, lifting him into his arms.

He was heavy, even for one who was stronger than his slim frame appeared, but the distance was short and moments later Bashir was laying him in the bed. "What hurts?" he asked urgently, his tricorder already in his hand.

"Head," Matt gasped, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain.

The scan showed no apparent cause, and while normally Bashir found unexplained symptoms slightly annoying, today he couldn't help a sense of relief. The most obvious condition he had feared would have required immediate surgery, something he was hardly equipped for, though he would have attempted it if he had to…or maybe the captain would have agreed to turn back to Deep Space Nine, he mused, frowning at the tricorder. Even a slight hint of something wrong would have been nice, but Bashir let no hint of his emotion into his voice. "Just lie still; has this happened before?"

"Yes." Matt squinted up at him. "You…please tell me you're a doctor."

"Yes," Bashir said gently.

Given Matt's past experience, especially recently, it shouldn't have been nearly as reassuring as it was. But something about the man's calm confidence made Matt hopeful for the first time in a long time.

**Next chapter coming next week!**

_I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! _

_Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	2. Hodgepodge Heritage

**Chapter Two: Hodgepodge Heritage**

Bashir prided himself on being able to visually identify most species; he enjoyed their surprise when he correctly called a species that was often mistaken for another, and he felt it inspired more faith in his abilities as a xenologist when he didn't have to ask. But this time as he studied the features of the man in front of him, he had to admit he couldn't place them. And the tricorder had been no help, giving the readings without linking them to a known species.

"Matt?" he questioned softly. "Can you tell me what race you are?"

"Half Chitran…quarter Slovian…about an eighth Terran…who knows what else."

Bashir felt a moment's relief that his puzzlement had merely been because the man was a hybrid. If he had to feel his way by instinct, at least he knew there wasn't a specialist somewhere who would be able to do better, and he remembered gratefully that he had encountered both alien species on the _Defiant_'s voyage of exploration in the Gamma quadrant. As usual, he had taken the opportunity to gain at least a basic working knowledge of their physiology.

He wondered briefly how someone from the Gamma quadrant had come to have Earth human blood so far back in his ancestry, but this wasn't the time to pursue it.

"I'm going to get you something for the pain," he told Matt gently, getting up and going to his medkit. He returned a moment later, hypospray in hand. "This is safe for all three species, but I'm going to start with a low dose just in case you have an adverse reaction; I like to play it safe with hybrids." He deftly administered the drug, then activated a cool gel pack and laid it over Matt's eyes. "That should help some, assuming you're not completely cold-blooded." The smile in his voice indicated his teasing; Matt's temperature had been too far above that of the room for the cool-blooded Chitran to be dominant.

Matt made no reply beyond a faint moan that could have been thanks or just an indication of his pain.

Bashir scanned him once more, then gently removed Matt's shoes before pulling the blanket over him. Sitting beside him, he rested a hand on the side of his neck in a gesture Matt found surprisingly comforting. Once more a strange assurance washed over him that he could indeed trust himself to this doctor's care.

**Next chapter coming next week!**

_I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! _

_Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	3. Round of Doctors

**Chapter ****Three: Round of Doctors**

"How are you feeling?" Bashir asked gently about twenty minutes later.

Matt slitted his eyes open, carefully not moving any other part of his head. "Better…" he managed. "It's not excruciating anymore; just unbearable."

"Well, I suppose that's an improvement, if not much of one," Bashir admitted wryly. "Your color looks a bit better — at least, as long as it's normally Chitran. For a human, you still look positively ghastly."

Matt managed a faint smile. "My skin color…is Chitran."

"Good; I'm relieved to hear it." He turned serious then, checking his tricorder readings once more. "Tell me, are you experiencing any new symptoms since I injected the drug, especially ones you've never had before?"

"No."

"It looks like it's safe to give you the rest of that dose, then, and once you're feeling better maybe we can talk about finding out what's wrong."

"…Like that…" Matt murmured.

As the full dose of medication began to take effect, the pain eased enough to enable him to drift into sleep. Bashir scanned him once more, checking to be sure it was indeed true sleep and not unconsciousness or even a coma. Satisfied, he set the tricorder aside, knowing that the best thing for his patient now was rest.

**oOo**

When Matt woke several hours later, his headache seemed to have gone, at least as far as it ever did anymore. But he knew better, and cautiously moved his head only the tiniest bit.

When no awakening pain stabbed behind his eyes, he slitted his eyes open and tentatively raised his head a quarter inch. "Water," he whispered, trusting that the doctor was still there.

"One moment," came the reassuring voice, and he heard someone get up from the chair and cross the room to the replicator.

"Here you are." The doctor's arm came around his shoulders, lifting him just enough to drink without choking as he held the glass to Matt's lips. Thirsty, he drank nearly half of it before turning away.

"Better?" Bashir questioned, easing Matt back onto the pillows and setting the glass aside.

"Yes…thank you."

Bashir merely nodded, scanning Matt once more and examining the results for a moment with a studied expression, wishing again he knew what Matt's normal readings were. At last he looked up. "You said this has happened before; have you ever seen a doctor?"

Matt sighed, turning his head away. "Yes…but I've never had much luck with doctors. As a child I was always shuffled back and forth between Chitran and Slovian doctors until whatever I had got better on its own; now I usually don't even bother to go. This was getting worse, not better, so I eventually went to a Chitran doctor. He didn't know what was wrong and suggested I see a Slovian doctor, but she didn't have any better success."

Bashir shook his head. "What you need is a xenologist."

"A xene…what?"

"A xenologist; a doctor who specializes in treating multiple species, rather than just one."

"Can…you recommend one?"

Bashir grinned. "I _am_ one, so at the risk of boasting…" His smile softened into gentle assurance. "I've treated any number of species, both alone and in combination, and I'm reasonably familiar with all the races in your heritage; I think I can safely promise I'll be able at least to find out what's wrong, and hopefully to help you."

There was a time when he would have promised without reservation that he would be able to help, but the Quickening had curbed at least some of his arrogance; he now realized that even he couldn't cure everyone.

**Next chapter coming next week!**

_I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! _

_Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	4. Diagnosis

**Chapter ****Four: Diagnosis**

"Are you up to a consultation now?" Bashir questioned.

"As much as I'll ever be," Matt answered, slowly pushing himself to sit up. He groped for the glass on the table and raised it with a hand that trembled slightly; Bashir reached to steady it before the liquid could spill.

"Thank you. Go ahead, Doctor; I'm ready."

Bashir nodded. "How long has this been going on?"

"About three years."

"So long?"

"It wasn't as bad at first…I didn't even try to find a doctor for at least a year."

"I see…and how old are you?"

"Twenty-five."

"Counting as which species?"

"Chitran…I was raised on Chitra, so we use their years."

Bashir nodded slowly, mentally calculating the conversion into Terran and Slovian years; all three were fairly close in length. "Tell me exactly what happens when you have one of these attacks."

Matt shrugged one shoulder against the pillow. "You saw most of it. It starts with a violent sneezing fit, followed by a sharp pain behind my eyes, especially if I move my head."

"Yes…I apologize, Matt, that I didn't realize sooner something was wrong — though I don't know that I should have. Sneezing is usually innocuous in both Terrans and Slovians, and the texts I read didn't indicate that Chitrans sneeze at all."

Matt smiled faintly. "That's all right; you realized soon enough."

"You said the episodes are getting worse?"

"Yes, I used to be all right if I could lie down for a while; now I pass out if I don't lie down right away, and sometimes even if I do. When I come to, the pain seems to be gone, but it comes back if I move my head at all. I have to lie absolutely still for hours before I even feel anything close to normal, and the pain never fully goes away."

"So you're in pain now?"

"Yes…but not bad."

"Have the attacks gotten more frequent as well?"

"Yes…this is my third on board this ship."

"And you boarded how long ago?"

"A week."

"So basically you're incapacitated nearly half the time, and none too well the rest of it…I'd say it's past time something was done for you. Did the two doctors you visited say anything at all?"

"The Chitran didn't; the Slovian thought some of the symptoms were similar to thollanine toxicity."

"Thollanine…of course!" Bashir murmured. "Did she test you for it?"

"No. I told her I'd never worked in the plasma factories, and she said the test was too invasive to perform if I couldn't have been exposed."

"But you _have_ been exposed," Bashir fairly groaned. "Chitrans have a pair of glands that produce the enzyme thollanase, which combines with other enzymes to produce a pheromone that's attractive to the females of the species. But chemically, it's almost identical to thollanine."

"How come Chitrans don't poison themselves, then?" Matt demanded.

Bashir shook his head. "One man's meat is another man's poison, and all that; it isn't toxic to them."

"But if I'm poisoning myself, why have I only gotten sick fairly recently? Shouldn't I have been showing symptoms my whole life?"

"Not at all. The glands only begin to produce the enzyme on reaching maturity; it's been building up since then, which is why you've gotten progressively worse." He was silent for a moment, thinking back to recall what he had read of thollanine poisoning and its progression Then he reached for his tricorder again, flicking a switch to produce a bright light. "Turn this way, please; I want a look at your eyes."

Bashir cupped Matt's chin in his hand as he peered carefully into each eye, his lips tightening at the sight of the white flakes building up in the back. "Have you been having problems with your vision?" he asked quietly.

"I…always see spots before I pass out."

"That's a common occurrence, but I meant when you don't have a headache."

"I always have a headache now…I told you that."

Bashir sighed. "You're evading my question," he said quietly, "which I suppose is all the answer I need. How bad is it?"

Matt sighed. "It's like a white haze in front of my vision; sometimes less, sometimes more. It's usually worse when I first get up; sometimes I'm afraid I have gone completely blind, but by evening I can see almost normally."

"But as a general trend, it's getting worse?"

"Yes," Matt whispered. He reached out and gripped Bashir's hand. "I'm not going blind — please tell me I'm not going blind!"

"You're not," Bashir assured him, and told himself it wasn't a lie. Left untreated, the poison would kill him before his sight failed completely; treatment would save his vision as well as his life. His voice betrayed no hint that he wasn't speaking the strict, literal truth, and Matt relaxed once more.

**Next chapter coming next week!**

_I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! _

_Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	5. Initial Treatment

**Chapter ****Five: Initial Treatment**

"Did either doctor at least give you something for the pain?" Bashir questioned.

"The Slovian did, but it just made things worse."

"It made the pain worse?" Bashir verified.

"No, it did help with the pain, but it made me violently ill. Then vomiting brought on the pain again the same as sneezing does, and I passed out. I woke lying in a pool of vomit; I know if I hadn't happened to be lying on my side, I would have choked. The headache was gone, which it wouldn't normally have been by then, but it wasn't worth it."

"Do you know what the medication was?"

"No, but it's there in my bag," Matt said with a gesture across the room.

Bashir raised an eyebrow in surprise that Matt would bother bringing something he had no intention of using, but crossed to the bag without comment. Moments later he had found the vial, and groaned softly as he read the label. "Of course… In Slovians this is a safe, effective migraine medication, but in Chitrans it's a powerful stomach irritant with no known medicinal use." He smiled slightly. "What I gave you isn't as strong — it won't get rid of the headache completely — but it's not contraindicated for any of the species in your makeup. But I'm surprised you didn't go back for a different prescription."

Matt shrugged. "Why bother; it was obvious she didn't know what she was doing."

"I'm sure she's a perfectly competent doctor with full Slovians," Bashir defended his unknown colleague. "But it's too bad your doctors couldn't have worked together instead of shuffling you back and forth; none of them seems to have grasped that hybrids are essentially a new species with aspects of both, not two species existing side by side in the same body that can be treated separately."

Matt smiled faintly. "I'm not sure I ever realized that myself, though with so much interbreeding in my father's family I suppose I should have."

"No reason for you to think much about it at all," Bashir dismissed. "Anyway, now that we know what the problem is, we can start to do something about it."

"Then…you _can_…?"

Bashir grinned. "Of course. I'm going to give you a hormone suppressant right away, but it won't stop the production of thollanase entirely, so I'll need to go in and remove the glands as soon as possible." He was busy as he spoke, preparing a hypospray from his medkit.

Matt paled. "Remove…but you said it was for…it won't…um…"

He faltered to a stop, and Bashir grinned again, guessing from his embarrassment what he was asking. "Sterilize you?" he supplied. "No; you'll just be slightly less attractive to Chitran females. And since your father seems to have managed without any pheromones at all, I don't think you have anything to worry about." He pressed the tip of the hypospray to Matt's neck, then stood. "I'm going to go talk to the captain about where to do the surgery; I want you to keep quiet and rest while I'm gone. In fact, it would probably be best if you laid down."

"Can you get me another drink first?"

Bashir frowned but added a little more water to the glass. "Just sip," he warned; "the surgery is best done on an empty stomach."

He turned once more to leave the room, then paused at the door. "You know, Matt, I am curious about one thing…what's so important it has you traveling halfway across the galaxy when you're so sick?"

Matt smiled faintly. "A last hope, I suppose…since Chitran and Slovian doctors couldn't help me, I thought I'd try a Terran…"

"Ah. Well, I'll certainly do my best."

**Next chapter coming next week!**

_I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! _

_Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	6. Medical Facilities

**Chapter ****Six: Medical Facilities**

Bashir hesitated once more outside the door to their quarters, unsure about the wisdom of leaving Matt alone. But surely he wouldn't have another episode so soon, when normally he would still be recovering from the last one, and even if he did there was little Bashir could do for him beyond easing his pain.

So he turned and strode down the corridor in search of a crewmember, determined to return as soon as possible with the means to actually help.

"Excuse me?" he questioned on seeing a steward ahead of him.

The man turned with a friendly smile. "Yes; what can I do for you?"

"Would it be possible for me to speak with the captain?"

"Certainly; come this way."

"Thank you."

Bashir fell into step behind him as the steward led him briskly through the ship to the room that served as the captain's office and briefing room. "Someone to see you, sir," he announced, pressing the door chime.

"Enter," the captain responded. "Ah, Dr Bashir!" he greeted him, standing as the door slid open. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I was wondering what kind of medical facilities you have on board this ship."

The captain chuckled a little nervously. "Conducting an inspection, are you?"

Bashir frowned. "Not exactly. My roommate is quite ill and needs surgery as soon as possible; you _do_ have a sickbay?"

"A tiny one with an EMH; it's mostly meant for first aid, so I doubt it's equipped as an operating room."

"Neither are my quarters, which is where I'll have to do it if I can't use the medbay," Bashir replied evenly.

The captain frowned. "It's really that urgent? It can't wait until we reach our destination?"

Bashir shook his head. "A couple hours would probably be safe, if you wanted to turn around and take us back to Deep Space Nine; I'm not concerned about missing the beginning of the medical conference if it comes to that. But he's gone untreated so long I don't dare risk a few days."

The captain pursed his lips, considering. "You aren't the only one with a schedule to keep," he decided finally. "If you're willing to try in the medbay, I think we'd better stay on course."

Bashir nodded. "Let me go down and have a look at it, then."

"I'll show you," the captain offered. "What exactly is wrong with him; nothing contagious, I hope?"

"Not at all," Bashir assured him. "He's a hybrid, and an enzyme made by one species is poisonous to the other, so I need to remove the gland that produces it."

The captain frowned. "But you said it's an emergency. He's been a hybrid all his life; if he's gone for this long, surely he could go a few more days?"

Bashir shook his head grimly. "It's precisely _because_ he's gone for this long that he can't wait very much longer; the poison's been accumulating and is near lethal levels now. The suppressant I gave him won't stop production of the enzyme entirely, and I don't want to risk passing the point of no return."

"Well, I'll leave it to your judgment, though you may change your mind when you see the size of our medbay."

"I've worked in cramped conditions before," Bashir dismissed.

"Well, here it is, what there is of it."

The medbay was indeed tiny, with barely room to walk all the way around the single biobed. A single large screen hung over the head of the bed, while sliding doors in the walls suggested the presence of medical equipment. As Bashir reached forward and activated the biobed, the screen hummed to life.

"It looks like good monitoring and imaging," he remarked.

The captain nodded with some pride. "We don't have much, but what we do have is top of the line."

"Then I shouldn't have any problems," Bashir assured him. "I think you mentioned an EMH?"

In answer the captain pressed an activation switch, and the holographic doctor shimmered into view in front of them.

"What is the nature of your emergency?"

"I'm Dr Julian Bashir," he introduced himself. "I'm going to be performing surgery here shortly, and I'd like your assistance."

"By all means," the Doctor agreed. "What is the nature of the operation?"

"I have to remove the thollanal glands from a Chitran hybrid."

The Doctor frowned. "I have no knowledge of Chitrans in my database."

Bashir grinned. "That's all right; I do. I'll mostly need you to serve as anesthesiologist, and give any other aid I may ask for."

"Very well," the Doctor acquiesced.

"Do you have a grav stretcher?" Bashir questioned.

The hologram nodded and opened the locker to get it.

"Thank you. I'll go get the patient; you stay here and prepare the room for surgery. Thank you, Captain," he added almost perfunctorily, pushing the stretcher past the man still standing in the doorway.

"You will let me know how it goes?"

"Of course," Bashir agreed. "Now, if you don't mind, I've left my patient unattended quite long enough as it is."

**Next chapter coming next week!**

_I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! _

_Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	7. Final Tests

**Chapter ****Seven: Final Tests**

More nearly pain-free than he had been in weeks, Matt lay drifting in and out of sleep, quite willing to obey the doctor's instructions to lie still. He hadn't been sleeping well since the pain became constant, and had been pushing himself to keep going through his pain and fatigue. Now, too, the knowledge that this doctor knew what to do to help him let him fully relax for the first time he could remember.

"Matt?" came the doctor's low call from the door. "Are you awake?" The voice grew louder as he approached the bed, and Matt opened his eyes to discover to his horror that it made no difference. "Doc — I can't see!" he cried, groping desperately. His reaching hand was quickly enfolded in the doctor's warm, reassuring clasp.

"Easy," he soothed. "You said this has happened before."

"I know…and I'm always afraid this is the time it's permanent."

He felt Bashir's hand cupping his jaw, and dimly saw the light as the doctor checked his eyes. "It doesn't look any worse than before," he assured him. "The accretions have shifted so they're blocking more of your vision, but there don't seem to be any more of them. You're going to be fine." Matt heard the smile he couldn't see, and relaxed once more.

"I'm sorry, Doctor."

"That's all right," Bashir assured him. "Now, I have a grav stretcher here to take you down to the medbay for surgery."

Matt started slightly. "You mean you're doing it here…now?"

"That was the idea, yes; I really don't think you can afford to wait much longer."

"All right…I guess the sooner you do it, the sooner I'll feel better."

"Well, not quite," Bashir cautioned. "The surgery can only keep it from getting worse; you won't start to feel better until we can get you on chelation therapy at the hospital on Earth — I don't have the equipment here."

"_Not worse_ is better than nothing," Matt acknowledged. "But you don't need the stretcher; I can walk."

"I'm sure you could if you had to," Bashir agreed. "Since you don't, I'm not about to allow it. Here, let me help." With his arm guiding Matt, he was soon settled on the grav stretcher, and the doctor pulled a light blanket over him. He paused long enough to sling his medkit over his shoulder before pushing the stretcher from the room.

Matt blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his vision, and at last made out Bashir as a cloudy shape beside him. "I can see a little now, Doc," he said, relief in his voice. Despite Bashir's assurance, he hadn't been able to help fearing as always that this time the blindness would be permanent.

"Good," Bashir replied cheerily.

"You said I wouldn't go completely blind…but am I always going to be unable to see when I first wake up?"

"Until we get you to the hospital for chelation, yes. Afterwards you might still experience some cloudiness from time to time, but it should be much improved. And a Slovian doctor experienced in treating thollanine toxicity might even be able to get rid of any lingering problems — the texts I read were general medicine, so they didn't go into all the details of treatment for every condition. Well, here we are," he announced, turning the grav stretcher into the medbay as the doors slid open. "This is an emergency medical hologram; he's going to be assisting me. Doctor, let's get the patient on the biobed."

Matt found himself lifted before he could once again protest his ability to walk, and wished he didn't know that one of the pairs of arms supporting him belonged to a hologram. They felt just as real and solid as Bashir's, but still he felt a sense of relief when he lay on the real, firm surface of the biobed. "_You'll_ be doing the surgery, though…?"

"Yes," Bashir assured him, grinning to himself at the slight distrust of holograms apparent in Matt's voice. He recalled that hologram technology on the Chitrans' homeworld was nowhere near as advanced as that in the Federation; holograms were unsubstantial ghosts incapable of interacting with real objects. He could well understand why Matt preferred to know that a flesh and blood hand would be holding the scalpel.

"Keep your head still for a moment," he ordered. "I want to run a scan and make sure I'm right about your anatomy." The tricorder combined with his knowledge of the three species had allowed him to make a decent guess that he would have trusted if he had to, but it couldn't compare with a detailed imagining scan.

"Good," Bashir murmured as the images appeared on the screen. "A clear pathway through the nasal cavity…we'll be able to do this minimally invasively. I'm still going to have to anesthetize you, though," he added more loudly, "since I don't want to risk having you sneeze while I'm in there. And that means full ventilation; Slovians are notorious for stopping breathing under anesthesia."

Matt appeared slightly alarmed. "This surgery — it _is_ safe?"

"There's no hundred-percent guarantee, if that's what you mean — no surgery has that. But it's a lot safer than not doing it, and I'm an excellent surgeon; you'll be fine." He purposely overplayed his arrogance, and Matt relaxed again.

"Actually, stopping breathing might be better than living like this…"

Bashir frowned, but knew Matt wasn't actually suicidal yet. "You'll be fine," he repeated gently. "And then we'll get you to Earth and see about getting the poison cleared from your system, and you won't believe how much better you'll feel."

He turned and adjusted several settings on the respirator. "I need to find out exactly what gases your body is using so I know the best mixture to give you; I want you to empty your lungs, take a slow, deep breath through the mask, then breathe out slowly until either your lungs are empty or you have to take a breath. Understand?"

"I think so," Matt said a little doubtfully.

"Good. Exhale…now breathe in." He pressed the mask over Matt's mouth and nose. "And out, slowly." He watched the numbers change on the machine as it analyzed the chemical content of Matt's breath.

Matt breathed out until he was forced to inhale with a slight gasp; Bashir set aside the mask and pressed a button on the machine to calculate the best mixture for Matt's species. He idly did the calculation mentally while he waited, and grinned in satisfaction when the machine's result was only a few percentage points different from his.

**Next chapter coming next week!**

_I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! _

_Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	8. Surgery

**Chapter ****Eight: Surgery**

"Everything looks good to go," Bashir told Matt with a smile. "Are you ready?"

Matt smiled weakly. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Bashir grinned. "You really can trust me, you know; you don't get to be chief medical officer on a space station unless you're _some_ good as a doctor." He winked, and Matt relaxed slightly at the truth behind the teasing.

"Just relax," Bashir murmured, pressing the tip of a hypospray to Matt's neck. The sedative worked quickly, and in moments he was completely relaxed and just barely conscious as Bashir inserted the tube down his throat. "Watch his respiration," he told the Doctor. "I want him breathing on his own as long as he will, but as soon as the rate drops below ninety percent of normal, increase the pressure. The same with the anesthetic; I want him just barely under, but I also don't want to chance him coming to. Can you handle that?"

"Of course," the doctor agreed, managing to sound slightly insulted despite the perpetual evenness of his tone.

"Very good, then. Activating sterile field; give him the first dose." He watched closely, assuring himself that the emh was indeed capable of handling what he had asked. Satisfied, he nodded and turned to his own work, keeping only a tiny bit of his focus on the monitors.

He watched the image on the screen to see what he was doing as he delicately threaded a laser scalpel and forceps up Matt's nostril and through his sinus to the gland. Gripping the gland, he cut it off at the base and then pulled it out through Matt's nose.

The operation went smoothly, taking a surprisingly short time despite the care with which he had to move. He made certain the stump was completely sealed off before turning to check Matt's vitals on the monitor. "How's his breathing been?"

"A little irregular, but I haven't had to ventilate him."

"Good; maybe the Terran in him will keep him from a bad reaction, though the anatomical structure of his respiratory system _does_ look more Slovian." He gave a half shrug, not about to argue with or debate the reasons for a good result. "Don't give him any more anesthetic unless you absolutely have to," he added, situating himself to begin the process again on Matt's left side.

"Understood."

Bashir drew a deep breath when he had finished. "There. He's still breathing on his own?"

"Yes; his respiration dropped for a moment, but it came back up."

Bashir frowned, studying the record on the screen, but merely nodded. "We can remove the tube as soon as he comes out of the anesthesia, then, though I'll still want a mask on him."

"He's starting to come out now," the Doctor observed.

Bashir laid a hand on Matt's shoulder. "Matt, it's Dr Bashir," he said gently. "I just removed the glands. You still have a tube down your throat; don't struggle."

Matt blinked his eyes open, soothed by the calm tone of Bashir's words, though the doctor was unsure how much he had understood.

"I'm going to take out the tube now, and give you an oxygen mask to help you breathe," Bashir continued in the same even tone, deftly performing the procedure even as he spoke. "How do you feel?" he questioned when the mask was in place.

"All right…" Matt murmured, his muffled voice sounding slightly raspy.

"Well, everything looks good for now, but I'm going to keep you here in the medbay for a while in case you have a delayed reaction to the anesthetic. How's the headache?"

"Not…bad…"

Bashir frowned, wondering what Matt's definition of "not bad" was. "Better than what it felt like most of the time?"

"About…same."

"I'm going to give you a little something for it, then. What about your vision; can you see all right?"

"Fuzzy…not same…"

"All right; that's probably just the anesthesia, then. There," he added, injecting the painkiller. "Just rest; sleep if you can."

"You…?"

"I'll be right here watching over you."

**Next chapter coming next week!**

_I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! _

_Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	9. Delayed Reaction

**Chapter ****Nine: Delayed Reaction **

"How can I get in touch with the captain?" Bashir asked the Doctor. "He wanted me to let him know how the surgery went."

"The button for the comm system is on the wall there," the Doctor pointed out.

"Thank you." He maneuvered around the biobed until he could reach the button. "Medbay calling the captain," he tried, assuming the system's basic function was similar to Starfleet's.

"Captain Halloran; Dr Bashir, I presume?"

"Yes, sir. I just wanted to report to you on my patient's condition — though there's only so much I'm willing to say on an open comm system, for confidentiality reasons."

"Of course. He's all right, though?"

"The surgery was a success, and he's stable and resting comfortably, though I'd like to keep him in the medbay in case he develops complications."

"You have the use of it for as long as you need it, Doctor, unless we get someone who needs it more."

"Understood," Bashir agreed, recognizing it as such an unlikely possibility that he didn't bother to specify that he wanted to be the one to do triage. "Dr Bashir out." He glanced again around the tiny medbay. "I don't suppose they have a chair in here?"

"Hardly a necessity when the resident doctor is a hologram," the Doctor pointed out with a vague smugness.

Bashir sighed. "I thought not. You won't be offended if I sit on the floor, I trust?"

"I am not capable of being offended," the hologram said stiffly.

"Hmm," Bashir murmured, sliding down to sit with his back against the wall, an eye on the monitors. "I wonder…"

**oOo**

"Dr Bashir, he's stopped breathing."

But Bashir was already on his feet, having jumped up almost before the shrill alarm on the respirator sounded; certainly before the Doctor could finish his calm sentence. "Damn," he swore under his breath. "Just when I was starting to hope he wouldn't have a reaction…" He began artificial respiration even as he spoke, his movements as fluid and sure as if he worked on Slovians every day. The method was completely different than with Terrans; the scan of Matt's anatomy had told him his respiratory system was far closer to a Slovian's and should be treated as such, though the placement of some of the more Terran organs forced him to modify the technique slightly from the textbook procedure he had studied.

"Inject stimulant," Bashir ordered. "Two cc's monosynthadrenaline." It wasn't the first drug he would have chosen for a Slovian, but it was the one least likely to be contraindicated in Terran or Chitran.

The emh complied instantly, and Bashir watched the monitors closely for any sign of a change. "You see what I'm doing here?" he asked shortly.

"Yes."

"Can you take over, exactly the way I'm doing it?" Having the Doctor take over would allow him to perform other procedures himself instead of having to explain them, and had the added advantage that a hologram couldn't grow tired.

"Wouldn't it be simpler to ventilate him?" the Doctor suggested even as he seamlessly took over for Bashir.

Bashir grunted. "Easier, maybe," he admitted, a hand at Matt's pulse despite the monitor displaying his heart rate and blood pressure. "But the longer a Slovian is on ventilation, the harder it is to get him off it. And the muscle relaxant needed to intubate will only serve to paralyze his diaphragm further… I'll do it if I have to, but if he goes on ventilation now he'll be on it until they can wean him off at the hospital, _if_ they can, so I'd rather try to get him breathing on his own." He adjusted the dials on the respirator, increasing the flow but slightly lowering the percentage of oxygen. He ran his tricorder over Matt's abdomen and frowned; there was no sign the stimulant was having any effect. He would have to try another drug and run the risk of an irregular heartbeat, he decided grimly.

Measuring the dosage carefully, he injected the smallest possible effective amount, then watched the monitors narrowly for any result. Knowing they weren't programmed for Slovians, he pulled out his tricorder and scanned Matt's abdomen, detecting at last the faintest possible flutter.

With a wave, Bashir gestured the Doctor aside. Clasping his hands together under the small of Matt's back, he drew them up sharply. A loud hiccup escaped Matt's throat before he drew a gasping breath. Bashir half straightened, holding up a hand to keep the emh back as he watched the numbers on the respirator and listened to Matt's breathing. It was still uneven, interspersed with loud hiccups, but as it gradually steadied Bashir relaxed. "All right; I think we have him now. We're just going to have to keep a close eye on his breathing."

He briefly considered whether to inform the captain of this latest episode, but decided against it. The crisis had passed and Matt was once again in the same condition Bashir had reported earlier; he wasn't a friend or relative needing to be apprised of every aspect of treatment.

"We'll have to monitor his heart rate, too," he added, already running through the dugs in his mind to determine which would be safest to use in the event Matt needed it. His heart was the most integrated organ, making it difficult to predict how it would respond, and Bashir hoped he wouldn't have to find out.

**Next chapter coming next week!**

_I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! _

_Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	10. Resting Comfortably

**Chapter ****Ten: Resting Comfortably**

Matt was still hiccupping slightly when he woke several hours later, blinking groggily until he caught sight of Bashir standing over him. "Doc, what…?" he managed, gesturing vaguely toward his throat.

"Shh," Bashir murmured. "You went into diaphrenetic shock; believe it or not, the hiccups are actually a good sign. Take a few slow, deep, even breaths and they should go away." He rested his hand over Matt's diaphragm as Matt obeyed, feeling the expansion of the membrane to its fullest. After five deep breaths, he nodded, and Matt relaxed as the hiccupping disappeared.

"That's better," Dr Bashir said cheerily. "How are you feeling?"

Matt sighed. "All right…but I'm tired of being here. Can I please go back to my bed in our quarters?"

Bashir frowned, looking at the monitors. Matt had developed a slight arrhythmia from the drug, but it had remained mild and resolved on its own without need for intervention. All the anesthetic had cleared from Matt's system, and only a few traces of the stimulant remained.

"Give it another half hour," he said finally. "If you're not showing any signs of further complications by then, I'll move you back."

He would be on his own in their quarters, and lacking much of the equipment. Yet he would also have room to sit down and relax slightly, making him more in favor of the move than he might otherwise have been.

He dialed down the settings on the respirator over the next half hour, until at last he removed the mask and let Matt breathe the unfiltered air.

"It looks like we're good to transfer you," he admitted after five minutes had passed with no ill effects. "Doctor, will you help me shift him to the grav stretcher?"

"Very well," the emh agreed. "Shall I call a steward to assist you in your room?"

Bashir hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Yes, thank you."

"But I can —"

"You can _not_ walk," Bashir cut in firmly. "Not without going against doctor's orders."

Matt sighed, but didn't argue further as Bashir and the Doctor lifted him to the grav stretcher. Weaker than he cared to admit, he closed his eyes as Bashir pushed him down the hall, and didn't bother to open them as Bashir and the waiting steward transferred him to the comfort of his own bed.

"Mmm," he murmured, shifting his head until he found the softest spot on the pillow.

Bashir smiled slightly and rested his hand against Matt's cheek for a moment before turning to the steward. "You can leave the stretcher here; I want it in case I have to get him back to the medbay in a hurry. And will you please inform the captain that the patient is resting comfortably back in his quarters?"

"Very good, sir." Touching his forehead in brief salute, the steward disappeared out the door.

Matt drowsed on and off thought the morning, while Bashir settled himself in the chair with a medical journal on his datapadd and one ear on his patient. Toward noon he replicated some broth, and coaxed until Matt swallowed most of it. He scanned him once more as he had been doing periodically throughout the day, then administered another dose of pain medication. Worn out from the effort of eating and with a satisfyingly full stomach, Matt fell into a deeper, more restful sleep.

Assured that Matt's condition wasn't likely to deteriorate within the next hour or two and knowing that even he couldn't go on forever, Bashir took the opportunity to lie down for a brief nap himself.

**oOo**

Matt woke, blinking to clear his vision, and found to his horror that even the usual lights and shadows were absent. "Doc!"

Bashir was at his side in an instant, touching his hand reassuringly. "I'm right here; what's wrong?"

"I can't see…" Matt whimpered.

"The lights are dimmed for the ship's night cycle; there's not much _to_ see," Bashir assured him.

"Oh," Matt said quietly, embarrassed now at having panicked.

"Lights up," Bashir ordered the computer, and immediately became visible as a cloudy shape in Matt's vision. "Is that better?"

"Yeah…but you can turn them off if you want to sleep."

"Let me check you over first, since you're awake. Are you experiencing any discomfort or pain?"

"Not really."

"That isn't a no," Bashir pointed out. "Just the headache?"

"Yeah…and my nose feels a little stuffy, as if I might be getting a cold."

Bashir frowned. "Probably just irritation from pulling the gland through, but I'll check; if it is a virus we'll need to take care of it right away because the last thing we want is anything that would make you sneeze."

"Do you think I'll have any more of those sneezing fits, now that you've removed it?"

"Mmm…I really couldn't say. If the sneezing was a response to a fresh influx of thollanase, then you shouldn't have any more. But if it was your body's attempt to rid itself of the thollanase already there, then I'm afraid it may continue to happen until we can get you treated at the hospital. But you've said it mostly happens when you're up and about and I intend to keep you on bedrest, so you may get away without one. Anyway, I can treat you for the pain immediately, and I doubt it's really the sneezing you mind."

"No…not anymore," Matt agreed.

"It does look like there's some inflammation there," Bashir commented, looking at his tricorder, "but I don't see any signs of viral or bacterial infection. I can give you a nasal spray to reduce the swelling and make you more comfortable; it should also reduce the chances of the irritation making you sneeze."

**Next chapter coming next week!**

_I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! _

_Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	11. Convalescence

**Chapter ****Eleven: Convalescence**

"Can you have an ambulance waiting for us at the spaceport?" Bashir questioned.

The captain looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes. "I thought you said he was doing well."

"I said he was stable and resting comfortably," Bashir clarified. "He still needs to be in the Starfleet Medical hospital, and I'm not taking him there via public transportation."

The captain sighed. "Of course not; I'm sorry. I'll request the ambulance right away."

"Thank you."

The ambulance crew came on board as soon as the ship docked, the steward showing them the way to Matt's room. "I don't need an ambulance," Matt protested halfheartedly as they lifted them to the stretcher; he had seen Bashir's face and knew that on some things the doctor was inflexible.

"Yes, you do," Bashir told him with a smile, resting a hand on the man's shoulder.

Matt sighed a little, giving in without argument that he knew would be futile. "What about my things…?"

"I'll have them sent on to my hotel room for now," Bashir promised. "I checked in remotely already, so there shouldn't be a problem. All right if I hitch a ride to the hospital?" he questioned, turning to one of the medics.

The medic glanced at Bashir's uniform and nodded. "Sure, Doctor."

Bashir grinned slightly to himself; where his medical license didn't grant him access, his uniform always did, and the civilian medics were disinclined to refuse any reasonable request from a Starfleet lieutenant.

As Bashir had expected, the doctors at Starfleet Medical had had little contact with any species from the Gamma Quadrant. But they were well-versed in the concept of hybrids and multispecies medicine and listened carefully to Bashir's detailed instructions of the treatment Matt needed. He was fully confident about leaving Matt in their care, yet every break in the conference of longer than half an hour saw him in the hospital with his patient; he spent more time there than he did in his hotel room.

The medical conference was over before Matt was ready to be released, and on his final afternoon before leaving to return to Deep Space Nine, Bashir sat in Matt's room more as guest than doctor.

"So, you're abandoning me?" Matt teased.

Bashir grinned. "Leaving you in good hands, rather; the doctors here seem to have your treatment well in hand, and they know how to contact me if any difficulties come up."

"Yes. Even my vision is improving, though they think I might still have to see a Slovian doctor about it when I get home."

Bashir frowned. "Well, I'm not really surprised. Just insist on having him work together with a Chitran to be sure any treatment isn't contraindicated. I would say an Earth human, too, but from the gene studies I did, the human part of you seems to be too well-integrated and hardy to cause any interactions. Which brings to mind something I've been wondering about… Just how did someone living in the Gamma Quadrant come to have human DNA three or four generations back in his ancestry?"

Matt chuckled softly. "Longer than that, Doctor; longer than that. And therein lies the tale…"

**Epilogue coming next week!**

_I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! _

_Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Once upon a time, twice a hundred years ago and more, a small ship roamed the galaxies. Her crew did not call themselves pirates, for that would have been too crude. They were opportunists, salvagers, "rescuing" sometimes even those who vehemently protested their need of salvage. They were composed of con artists, scammers, and embezzlers of all stripes, though nothing as unsubtle as an armed robbery; nothing their lawyers couldn't get them out of and insist it was perfectly legal. No, they weren't pirates; they had far too much class for that.

They came from all corners of the local galaxies — about half of them human, but no two of the others of the same species.

And then one day, it was they who found themselves in need of a salvage vessel…but for them there was no chance of aid.

They had slipped into an anomaly, a sort of tunnel through the stars. A black tunnel, they took to calling it, for like a black hole there was no escape.

Generations passed as they fell through, and the crewmembers intermarried with each other and produced hybrid children; some of them survived, while others were incompatible with life. The doctor, not trained as a geneticist, knew of no way to increase their chances of survival, and when he died the youth he had trained to replace him was even less skilled.

The ones who did live intermarried once more; mostly half human themselves, the children they produced were also half human.

By the time they found a new home somewhere deep within what they later came to know as the Gamma Quadrant, they had essentially become a new race, the Terran aspects combined and recombined so many times that only the best, hardiest part was left, and the race was extraordinarily adaptable to forming new hybrids.

**oOo**

"And so that's the story," Matt concluded.

Bashir frowned. "But if they were traveling through the Black Tunnel for generations, what did they have to eat?"

Matt chuckled. "Don't take everything about the story too literally, Doctor; like all legends of how a people came to be, it has its exaggerations and its elements of truth."

"Maybe more truth than most," Bashir admitted. "You truly are the sum of your parts, and it may be that hardy human element that saved you."

THE END

_I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! _

_Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


End file.
